Never Going to be Okay
by LaurenEP18
Summary: First fanfic *self harm and language. "What the hell is wrong with me? Am I so weak that I can't even tell my own brother that I needed him to stay with me? That I may need protection from myself, not the supernatural creatures that go bump in the night?"
1. Chapter 1

Dean walked through the door of the stingy motel room, hating the stench that invaded his nostrils. It smelled of stale beer and cigarettes, the usual for the Winchesters.

"Sammy?"

The room was dark and there were no lights on in the bathroom either. He only left for about an hour or so, where the hell did Sam go? He silently crept into the room, peering around for anything unusual.

Dean pulled out his cell and called speed dial one for Sam's cell and heard the unfortunate ringing coming from the dark bathroom. He had a bad feeling about this.

All of the sudden the door to the bathroom slammed shut and he heard the distinct clicking of the lock on the other side.

"SAM!"

He rushed over to the door and banged on the paint chipped wood until it cracked and a flurry of white paint fell to the dingy carpet.

"Sammy, are you in there? Talk to me buddy! Open up… NOW!"

He was getting seriously freaked. _Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god. No! Please answer. Come on damn it! _

"Sam, open the door or I will." He threatened.

"No." A small voice coming from the other side of the door pleaded.

"Sam? What the hell man? You had me freaking the fuck out! Now get out of the bathroom, I gotta take a leak." He tried to sound calm to try and lure him out of the bathroom, but he knew something was messed up. He just wasn't sure just yet what that was.

=====================SPN======================

**1 hour earlier**

"Hey, I'm heading out for a bit. Wanna tag along? I'm trying to get lucky though so you may have to walk home." Dean winked back at Sam with one of his cocky grins. Sam put on a small smile of his own to try to placate him, make it seem like he was fine so he would leave. He only needed to be alone for a little while, just an hour or so to get his thoughts together.

"Naw man, I'm good. Hey, have a good time. Don't worry about staying out too late; I've got a lot of research to do anyway so I won't be much company. I know how you get when you're bored." Sam rolled his eyes with as much energy as he could to make the familiar gesture seem genuine. He couldn't keep this up much longer, he felt so weighed down.

"What are you talking about? I'm adorable!" He walked past Sam and mock punched his shoulder as he exited the room in his favorite leather jacket.

He doesn't know how long he stood there in the middle of the room, staring at the empty space where he had last seen Dean's form. His legs began to shake underneath him as he found his way to one of the beds. Sighing, he placed his pounding head in his hands and squinted his eyes closed. The light was making everything worse so he flicked it off and lay in bed. Thoughts surrounding him in the silence.

_ What the hell is wrong with me? Am I so weak that I can't even tell my own brother that I needed him to stay with me? That I may need protection from myself, not the supernatural creatures that go bump in the night?_ With those thoughts, he found himself tracing the small raised skin on his left forearm. Tears pricked his eyes as he thought of each time he'd gone to the blade to calm his feelings. To keep from drowning in the thoughts that plagued his head everyday. And everyday it only got worse. The pain, the emotional and the physical. Every hunt gone wrong, every fight with Dad, after Jess… He flew off the bed and into the bathroom. Reaching into his back pocket, he felt the cool metal cover of his switchblade. He pulled it out and flicked it open, staring at the sharp edge.

Rolling up the sleeve of his over shirt, he stared longingly at the lattice of cuts. Dad would kill him if he knew what he was doing. Hell, Dean would kill him too… IF they knew… And that will never happen. He would never let them know how weak he was, how selfish and stupid he was.

"Ha." He breathed, "I'm barely a Winchester." With that last thought, he brought the edge down hard onto the tender flesh of his wrist. He bit down on his lip as the crimson bubbled to the surface and slowly ran down his arm and spilled onto the floor.

"It's no more that I deserve." He whispered as he brought the blade down again, and again and again. Four new cuts, devil red against his too pale skin.

There used to be a reason behind each and every cut. Mostly because of all the fights with Dad. Never knowing how to deal with them led to this. Now it was almost an everyday occurrence just to deal with life itself. Things were getting out of hand.

The fiddling of a key in a lock brought Sam out of his thought and into the real world. How long had he been in the bathroom? He looked down at the mess of his arm and the small puddle of congealed blood on the tile. _Shit._

"Sammy?" The mantra of "Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit." Repeated over and over again in his head as he thought of the best solution to get out of this without getting caught.

All of the sudden the shrill ringing of his cell phone knocked all since out of him and before he could restrain his actions, he found himself reaching for the door and slamming it shut and locking it. His eyes grew large as he realized how stupid he was for doing that. He turned his back against the door and slid down in front of it, pulling his knees into his chest and wrapping one arm around them. He kept his other arm out to keep from bleeding on himself.

"SAM!" Dean yelled, his voice closer than before to the door as it began to shake from the beating it was getting from the other side. "Sammy, are you in there? Talk to me buddy! Open the door… Now!" He felt a lone tear fall at hearing his brother, hearing the concern thick in his voice. There was a short pause, no yelling or banging of the door. Just silence. "Sam, open the door or I will." Dean spoke in a low menacing voice. To anyone else, this would have sounded like anger in his tone. Sam knew differently, he could here the slight panic in his voice and that made everything worse.

"No." The youngest Winchester whispered, too choked up to breathe evenly.

"Sam? What the hell man? You had me freaking the fuck out! Now get out of the bathroom, I gotta take a leak." He joked, though as usual Sam could hear the other meaning behind his words. He wanted him to come out of the bathroom so he could see with his own eyes that Sam was in one piece.

=================SPN===================

Sam took a few breaths to steady himself and then made quick work of cleaning the bathroom of any evidence. When he was sure that all of the blood was taken care of on the floor he flushed the toilet and ran cold water over his arm to wash away any blood, though the bleeding had already stopped. Dabbing the cuts off he then rolled the arm of his sleeve down and fastened the button on the end. Realizing that Dean would be suspicious of him being in the bathroom with the lights off he reached up and unscrewed both light bulbs and tossed them in the cabinet under the sink before opening the door and walking out to a very brightly lit room and a very irritated Dean Winchester.

"What the hell was that all about?" Dean eyed Sam up and down, scanning for any injuries.

"Dude, I-I was just using the bathroom." He lied easily besides the slight stutter in his voice, as Dean mulled over what he'd just said Sam took the time to take a few more calming breaths.

"Why was the light off?" He stated simply. Sam thanked his rarely lucky stars he had thought about that and had taken care of the issue.

"Some jack wagon took the light bulbs out of there when they left I guess. Shows what quality motel we've chosen for the night." He chuckled softly, that got Dean in a better mood though he was still watching him.

He laughed out loud and went and sat at the foot of his bed and tugged on the laces of his boots. Sam wanted to call him out on not actually having to use that bathroom, but decided against it just incase he may have forgotten to clean something up. Hopefully they would make it to Bobby's within a reasonable time tomorrow. Sam wasn't sure how long he could take being cooped up in the Impala with Dean's loud music. Maybe Dad would actually meet them there like he had said that he would… The youngest Winchester kind of doubted that. He looked over at his brother and saw that he had already passed out on top of the covers, jacket still on.

"How many beers did you have tonight?" He spoke mostly to himself under his breath as he went over and carefully pulled Dean's jacket off and shimmied the blanket out from under him to cover him with. Sam shuffled over to his duffel and changed into some sweat pants and a sweatshirt while dropping a freshly cleaned pocket knife inside. It was kind of chilly in the room so he'd have the excuse of wearing sweats to hide the new additions to his collection of scars.

He sat at the edge of his bed and stared unseeingly at his brother. Why couldn't he be more like Dean? Dad obviously favored him, probably because he never fought with him or showed any disrespect. He was the perfect little soldier. Maybe he should have taken the hint and fallen in line.

Sam smacked his temple with the heel of his hand with a heavy force. Now Dad was gone and he didn't even know where he was, what if he could never make it up to him? What if he could never show his father that he loved him, that he'd be the soldier that he wanted? He probably won't even show up at Bobby's, what then? Another well placed blow to the temple and the world became a bit blurry. A sick thought crossed his mind as he began to continue the blows in a steady rhythm until all he saw was black. No pain. No nightmares. Just rest that he so badly needed.


	2. Chapter 2

Something hitting his boot made him wake up with a start. Sam sat up quickly and regretted that action just as fast. He was very dizzy and the room blurred for a moment. He closed his eyes tight and fought the light-headedness and then they opened to find Dean kneeling in front of him with a worried expression on his face.

"Dude, you okay?" Dean questioned, trying to act like he wasn't too concerned. Sam scrunched up his eyebrows.

"I'm _fine_, back off." Anger suddenly overwhelmed him. Couldn't Dean give him a break every once in a while? He was always hovering over him, mother hen 'til the end. And for the second time that morning he regretted doing something. Dean's face dropped just a fraction as he stood to full height and shuffled over to the one table by the window, dropping a large brown bag on it with a thump. Sam sighed, he shouldn't have snapped at him like that.

"I went out and got us breakfast from the diner down the block. I thought you might be hungry since you didn't eat anything last night." He turned a questioning glare in Sam's direction.

"Wasn't hungry." Sam replied nonchalantly as he too shuffled over to the table to join Dean.

The older Winchester brother began to pull out several greasy hash browns when Sam started to feel sick. He hasn't been hungry lately, just too focused on other things to even _want_ to eat. Backing away from the table, Sam went to begin packing his meager belongings into his duffle. He could feel his brother's gaze boring a hole through him, though he chose to ignore it. He wanted to be on the road as soon as possible, he was crawling the walls in this hellhole and they have only been there for the night.

"Sam." It was meant as a question, though it sounded more like a statement. He turned around to meet his brother's eyes and must have had something more than curiosity in his own since Dean averted his eyes the second Sam looked at him and began to nibble on the edge of one particularly oily hash brown.

After Sam had finished packing his and Dean's duffle bags, he went and sat back down at his abandoned seat and waited for Dean to finish eating. "I want to get on the road soon, you know… Make good time? Hopefully we'll make it to Bobby's by lunchtime." He saw something in Dean's expression that he couldn't quite place so he added, "Maybe on the way we can stop by that burger joint Bobby likes and pick up some burgers to eat for when we get there?" That last comment earned a grin from his older brother.

"Yeah! That sounds great." His eyes narrowed before continuing, "And I _am_ getting extra onions. I don't want to hear any bitching coming from you, salad boy."

Sam rolled his eyes and scooted out of his chair. Dean tossed him the Impala keys and told him to throw the bags in the trunk while he cleaned up the salt lines and checked them out. He obliged, happy to have a little time to himself.

He finished up his duties and slid into the passenger side of the Impala waiting for Dean to check them out. Before he packed the car up, he'd changed into a pair of jeans, boots and his usual layered shirts. It was a little warm out, but being paranoid as always he kept his sleeves rolled down and buttoned at his wrist. Though he had his watch on that wrist, he didn't want to chance having Dean see anything, just until the coloring faded. Sitting, waiting for Dean, took a little longer than expected. It gave him a little _too_ much time to think, which was always a bad thing. Yes, he did want time alone… Though he realized too late that usually the only time he wanted to be alone was to cut. And there was no way he could get away with doing that now. Not in Dean's precious Impala. He settled for pressing down on the fresh cuts, leaning his head back with a small moan escaping his lips.

A few minutes later he heard the drivers side door open and the weight being shifted as Dean got inside and started up the car using the keys that were sitting in the ignition. Sam had already pulled his thumb away from his wrist and settled himself for the two and a half hour ride.

Something out of the ordinary happened right as the car roared to life. Dean abruptly switched off the Metallica tape that came on. He just put the car into reverse and backed out of the motel parking lot without a word. The silence was deafening.

He was about to say something when Dean finally broke the silence after almost an hour of driving, "What the hell is going on with you, Sam?" Stunned for a moment, it took him a bit to get his response out.

"What are you talking about? Nothing is going on. I just didn't sleep too well is all." He wasn't really lying; he just left out major aspects of the real answer.

"Is it? Is that all? 'Cause I'm not sure about that. You've been acting strange since I picked you up from Stanford and it's just been getting worse, and worse! I mean, I know after Jess-"

"Stop right there!" I cut him off, venom in my words, "Don't even start to go down that road. I am doing my best here. I am trying so hard to get over that and you have the audacity bring it right up? No. It has nothing to do with J- her… Honestly it doesn't. I'm fine." And to be truthful, it was about her for a while. Now, he has numbed her out as much as possible. Tried to forget the bouncing blond curls tickling his nose has they made love, the rosy color of her cheeks as she blushed at him the first time they met, the gleam of excitement as he had asked her to come with him to a party his friend was throwing, her mouth hanging open as she was pinned to the ceiling… He turned and looked out at the trees passing by in a blur of green.

"Sam-" Dean started to protest.

"Dean, I am telling you the truth. What you _think_ is going on has nothing to do with her." Sam stared in his direction until Dean met his eyes. Dean nodded and popped in an AC/DC tape and turned it up to near ear bleeding volume until they reached the burger place that Sam had suggested going to for Bobby.

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Dean went into the diner to order their food, not trusting Sam to ask for his extra onions and sat down at a nearby table to wait for the order. He knew something was up with his baby brother; he just wasn't sure what it was. When Sam had looked him in the eyes and told him it was not about Jessica, he believed him for the most part. Though he felt that she did still have a little something to do with it.

He was on the verge of praying for their dad to come meet them at Bobby's place like he said he would. Maybe Sam was in a mood because he didn't believe that he would show up? That made him worry even more, because knowing their dad, he may or may not keep his word. Dean would be able to just pass on and not care too much if their dad didn't show… Sam on the other hand, would take it as betrayal. Of their father not living up to his word yet again. Sam just didn't understand that everything their father did was for their own good, even not showing up at Bobby's if he said he would. There would be a logical reason why, _if _he didn't show. Though Dean believed that he would.

His musings left him as his number was called and he willingly snagged the greasy bag and went back out to his baby and Sam. They were only about twenty minutes away from Bobby's and he could make it in ten.

Sam hadn't spoken the whole rest of the way, and true to his word ten minutes later they arrived at the salvage yard.

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Sam was never so glad to see Singer Salvage Yard in his whole life it seemed like. The Impala reeked of onion and the volume of the music was bordering on unbearable. As soon as the car came to a stop, he grabbed the door handle and wrenched it open just to come stumbling out of the car, hearing Dean calling his name over the cassette. He winced as most of his weight fell on his left arm and made the skin that scabbed on his wrist pull. Quickly jumping up before Dean could get to him, he began brushing himself off. Dean jogged around the front of the car to where Sam was standing holding three sodas and a large grease stained bag in his teeth. It would have been comical to see any other day, but he just wasn't feeling like _anything_ was funny these days.

He forced out a chuckle and grabbed two of the drinks out of his hands leaving Dean a free hand to take the bag from his mouth. "You okay?" Dean sputtered as soon as the bag was out of his mouth.

"Yeah, I was just trying to get out of the car and away from your onions. They were making me gag. Now the whole car smells like onions!" He smirked at Dean's disgruntled face.

"My baby smells fine thank you very much!" He turned on his heel and stalked up to Bobby's door and knocked before pushing the door open and announcing their arrival. Before walking inside, Sam stalled on the porch and turned to look out. Not seeing their dad's truck anywhere, he sighed and dragged himself inside and slowly shut the door behind himself.

He kept his eyes downcast as he made his way into the kitchen where he could already hear Bobby's gruff voice calling Dean an idjit for forgetting _his _extra onions. He made it to the kitchen just in time to see Bobby switch his and Dean's burgers and sit down winking at Sam. He smiled back at him in return as Dean set the drinks out on the table and sat down in their respective chairs. The same chairs they had always sat in since they were youngsters and their father had dropped them off there for a hunt. He looked over and saw the one empty seat that should have been occupied.

"Dad's not coming is he." What was meant as a question to Bobby came as a statement to the room. He stared at his burger and pushed it away and stood to walk into the den, not leaving any time to hear an excuse from either of the two men. He plopped onto the sofa and covered his face with his arm. This was going to be a long day. What was making it worse was that Dean was watching him more carefully than usual and that would make it hard for him to get away to… well, to take care of his problems the only way that he knew how. And with dad not being there to be a distraction, all he had was Bobby. Sam knew that right now they must have been talking about him in the kitchen, but he didn't have enough strength to care. A few minutes of lying there and he fell into a restless sleep, dreaming for the first time in months of Jess. They were actually good dreams, memories of better days… and that made everything worse. Those dreams were worse than the ones of her pressed to the ceiling, bleeding and catching fire. These were dreams of what he missed, what he would never see again and what he could never have. A normal, safe life with the woman that he loved. A family with her. He could see the bobbing head of a little child; brunette curls bouncing as she ran to her mother and Jess looked at Sam with such love in her eyes as she held their child, her wedding ring gleaming in the light… He could feel the tears threatening to fall, so he swiftly wiped any strays away as he stretched his sore muscles and looked around the room.

Bobby and Dean were still in the kitchen laughing, so he couldn't have been asleep that long. It was then that he heard another booming laugh, one that made him jump. He stood and walked into the kitchen to see the one person he thought he might never see again… No matter the fact that they were supposed to be meeting that day. Dad.


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey everyone. I am new to writing fanfic's so if I don't respond to your review right away it's because I am still figuring out HOW to do that! Haha, but I hope you enjoy this next chapter!**

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Sam ran a hand through his hair and gawked at the man sitting at the table with his brother and Bobby. It seemed like it had been a lifetime since he had seen his father and it drug up many memories he had spent years repressing. The good, the bad, everything had been brought to the surface in a matter of minutes as he stared at the man who told him that if he left for Stanford, don't ever come back. By the time he had come out of his revere, everyone in the kitchen was staring at him. He squeezed his eyes shut and then opened them, wondering if this was another dream.

The Winchester patriarch stood and whipped his hand up, an offer for Sam. He just stared at his callused hand for a moment before grabbing it and shaking his hand ever so slightly. Refusing to make eye contact or start any sort of conversation, he abruptly let go and took his rightful seat at the table. He kept his eyes on the wooden grains of the table and waited for someone to talk.

His dad took his seat across from Sam and cleared his throat, "Sammy? It's uh- Well, it's been too long son."

"Yes sir." Sam replied, keeping his voice low. He could feel his short nails digging into the palm of his sweaty hand… he kept digging.

The room lapsed into an awkward silence; no one particularly knew what to say. Of course this was all his fault, just like everything else. Everyone there had been just fine, talking and laughing until Sam walked into the room. Maybe he should just leave permanently…

"Sam! Answer me when I speak to you." Sam decided it was time he made eye contact; he would just act normal so that he wouldn't upset anyone. He raised his head a fraction so that he could look at his father. His father seemed taken aback by what he saw in Sam's face. "Son, are you alright?" General concern laced his military tone as he peered across the table.

"Yes sir."

"You don't seem alright. I thought you were going to Stanford to get an education, and here you are hunting again. What the hell happened?" His father turned to glance at Bobby who nodded in Dean's direction. "Dean?"

Dean, who had been staring at Sam the whole time jumped a little at his name and answered his father with a quick, "Yes sir?"

"_Apparently_ Sam doesn't want to talk about whatever happened at that _important _school of his… The one he abandoned his family to attend. So maybe you could fill me in on some of the details?" His father asked Dean, sarcasm dripping from each word. So quickly, if you had blinked you wouldn't have seen it, Sam was out of his chair and up in his father's face. His nose only an inch away from his face as he grabbed his collar and pulled him close.

"Do you _really_ want to know why I'm back hunting? Do you _really_?" Sam's tone held just as much sarcasm though he was seething with anger, "Let me see… It _could _have something to do with the fact that my girlfriend, who would have been my _fiancé,_ was pinned to the ceiling of our apartment, bleeding on my face until she _**combusted. Into. Flame**_." By the end of his little speech, he was practically screaming at the top of his lungs straight to his dad's face. His dad's face paled and just stared.

Sam began to breathe heavily, his breath hitching. He started to back away from his father, shaking, only to be pulled into a bone-crunching hug. Being so stunned by this action, Sam only let his arms hang limp at his sides. "I'm so sorry I wasn't there to protect you… I shouldn't have ever let you go." Sam gently maneuvered his way out of the bear hug so that he was standing a foot away.

"Dean was there." Sam turned his blue-green eyes over to the deep green ones of his brother, the brother that he would trust with his life. "He came back in and pulled me from the fire… I-I would have been dead were it not for him." He did not add in the fact that he wished with all his heart that he had burned in that room with Jess.

"Well," Dean began, trying to lighten the tense atmosphere and get the attention that was suddenly thrown at him, "just doin' my job little bro." He smirked and ruffled Sam's hair. "So when did you want to go out on that hunt you were telling us about?"

"Hunt? What hunt?" Sam blurted out.

"Why else would I come?" His father huffed, "Of course I have a hunt, and I need you boys help with it. It's one nasty mother and I can use all hands on deck." Dean looked over at his father after he just said one of the stupidest things he could have said. Of course he wouldn't come just to see his two sons who have been looking for him ever since Dean came and took him from Stanford. Of course he would have a hunt to go on.

"Oh. How stupid of me." Sam laughed without humor and continued; "I just thought that maybe you were just coming to see your sons who have been looking for you for months. _One_ son you haven't seen in over _four years_." His father just kept on glaring at Sam, but that didn't faze him. "That is the whole reason Dean even came to get my dumb ass from Stanford anyway. To come looking for you. I guess maybe I should have just stayed there." He turned his back to the hunters and made his way to his and Dean's shared room and flopped himself down on his bed, staring unseeingly at the ceiling.

==================SPN===================

"What the hell was that?" His dad questioned to no one in particular though Dean felt the need to answer.

"Dad, you said that the only reason you came was for the hunt. I understand that the hunt always comes first but… I mean, we've been looking for you for months now. I went and got Sam from school to try to help me find you. I guess he thought that you were coming here to try to reconcile with him, or at least let both of us know that you were alright! I mean… _Jesus,_ dad! You couldn't have at least called?"

"Dean, I was on the tail of that demon that killed your mother! And probably Sam's girlfriend too!"

"Jess." Dean muttered.

"What?"

"Jess." Dean pronounced a bit louder. "Her name was Jessica, and well… She was the love of his life." He bit his lip and looked down at his boots.

"God damn." His father cursed under his breath. _My thoughts exactly. _Dean thought to himself.

"Sam has been in a kina funk for… well, since I pulled him from his apartment the night Jess… Anyway, hopefully getting back in a hunt will do him some good. We've been taking it slow for a while and maybe we should get back into the swing of things."

"He just seems so… different. He doesn't look like the Sammy I knew before. It's the shell I see… not my son."

Dean looked away at those words. He's seen Sam spiraling down hill for some time now. It's just been so hard talking to him these days. He would try to talk to Sam about anything and he would either get a short melancholy response or a short angry response. He couldn't really talk to him at length about anything important. Come to think of it, Dean only got more than a couple of words from his brother if Sam was trying to get Dean to leave.

"Dad?" His father looked to him, his face full of too many emotions. "I don't know what to do." His father mirrored his face of confusion and dread and he knew that neither of them knew what to do to help the youngest Winchester. But Dean would do everything in his power to make sure his brother was safe. That is what he has been doing since he was four years old and that was just the way it was going to be.

================SPN===================


	4. Chapter 4

There was a soft knock at the door, Sam knew without a doubt who it would be. His dad would have never knocked.

"Go away, Dean." For a second, Sam was actually surprised at how his voice sounded to himself. It sounded rough and tired, well he wasn't _that_ surprised because he sounded just as he felt.

"Sammy, please. Can't we just talk for a minute?" Dean pleaded through the door. It was unlocked, but he figured Dean wouldn't just barge inside unless it was an emergency.

Sam shut his eyes, feeling the tightness in his chest at his brother's pleas. "I- please Dean. I need…" _I need your help, please help me. I'm drowning._ "I need some space."

"I know Sam. I get it. Could we talk about the hunt then?" Dean tried.

Sam huffed and got off the bed and scooted to the door, slowly creaking it open until he could see Dean. He wished he hadn't done that. Dean's face was so full of concern and desperation it made him physically ill to know he'd been the one to cause it. He bit his lip and backed away from the door and dropped onto his bed, clenching and unclenching his hands waiting for Dean to speak.

"So, dad needs our help with a zombie infestation over in Virginia Beach. He said that if you kill the original, the rest would follow. The original is some young girl in her twenty's, I think dad said her name was Elle something. I don't know… Anyways, we're packing up in the morning. Bobby's staying here, he has another job a few towns over he's gonna take care of." Dean looked down at Sam. "Sammy-"

"Dean I don't want to talk about it, okay? I'm fine." _I'm not fine. I do want to talk about it._ "I just want to be alone for a while. Don't worry about me." He put on his best smile. He didn't want his brother to worry about him. He was a grown man and he needed to take care of his problems by himself… Though his method of taking care of his problems wasn't the best, it worked for him. Now he just needed to convince Dean he was okay so that he could be alone to take care of things. He unconsciously began stroking the pocketknife in his jeans.

Dean sighed, "Well, you know you can always talk to me… About anything. Right Sammy?" He hedged.

"Of course I know that. I just need to take care of myself for a change. I promise I'll tell you if I need you, but really… Nothing's wrong." Sam lied through his teeth. If he felt ill before, he definitely felt the sickness coming now. Bile rose in his throat as he swallowed it down, clenching his jaw tight. Dean watched him for a moment, considering what Sam had just said and started for the hall.

"Dad and I, Bobby too… We just want you to be okay." He told Sam without turning to face him, his hand on the doorframe. With that last statement, he walked out of their room and downstairs.

"I'm never going to be okay." Sam muttered under his breath, so low he could barely hear it himself.

He turned toward the window and saw that it was already dark out and he was exhausted. Sam considered his options of trying to go to sleep then or releasing some built up emotions with the comfort of his knife so that _maybe_ he could sleep more peacefully. He went with the latter as he rose and stealthily made his way down the hall and into the small shared bathroom. Shutting the toilet seat, he sat and pulled out his pocketknife that he'd gotten from his father when he was just seven years old. The initials SW were carved into it and he slid his finger over the ornate script. With a deep breath, he popped the blade out and pulled the sleeve of his plaid shirt up to the elbow. Sam clamped down on his lip as he watched the skin pucker from where the blade bit into his skin. Ruby red drops came down onto the paper towel he laid on his leg. Not too much, he couldn't chance having anyone see now that he was on their radar.

After three small slices, he decided he was done for the night. He felt as if a load had been lifted from him and was suddenly very tired. Sam stood and opened the toilet seat and threw the soiled paper towel into the bowl and flushed the toilet. Running cold water, he rinsed both his wrist and the blade under the running water. Sam, for the first time in a long time, really looked in the mirror. He all but gasped at what he saw there. It didn't look like himself. But the man staring back with wide, alarmed eyes _was_ him.

His skin was pallid and dark circles were forming under his eyes. They weren't terribly noticeable. His face was a bit sunken in, again, wasn't too noticeable. He just looked as if he had been on the mend from the flu or something. Though these things would not really stand out to a complete stranger, he knew that his family would see them. He turned away disgusted, stomach rumbling. Now came another dilemma. Go downstairs and possibly have to speak to Dean or his dad or even Bobby to get something to eat, or just go to bed. He wasn't going to chance it.

He walked back to his and Dean's room and saw that Dean was already in bed. Sam stood in the doorway for a while, not really sure why.

"You just going to stare at me or are you gonna get your ass to bed, Samantha?" Dean joked. He could hear the smirk in his voice.

"Yeah, okay. Bed… right." He stumbled in the darkness to his own bed and quickly changed into an old sweatshirt and matching pants. He was so tired he almost didn't bother pulling the sheets back before falling face forward into his pillow, wrapping himself in their warmth. Not a minute later he could feel someone –Dean he was guessing- pulling the covers higher on his back and pulling his wayward bangs away from his forehead. A quiet sorrowful sigh filled the room and then he heard the springs of the other bed as Dean went back to sleep.

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The next morning, Sam found himself tangled in his sheets. He could hear snickering coming from the other side of the room as he began the arduous task of unwrapping himself from the blankets. As he pulled the last of the sheets away he twisted and fell onto the floor. The snickering turned into full-blown laughter as Sam quickly jumped up and rubbed his leg where he'd fallen on it.

"S'not funny Dean."

"The hell it isn't, Sammy!" He kept up his laughing until Sam leveled an irritated glare his direction. "I got all of your shit packed while you were off in lala land. We're leaving in twenty. You might want to go downstairs and grab some grub cause we're going to be on the road all day… And you know how dad never wants to make pit stops." He raised his eyebrow.

"Yeah, you're right." He agreed and followed Dean downstairs to the kitchen where Bobby was cooking up some eggs. Out of the corner of his eye he saw his dad packing up the Impala. "I guess we're taking the Impala. So we are all going to be in the same car then, huh?" He felt something in the pit of his stomach similar to stage fright. Dean just nodded. Understanding washed over his features as he figured what Sam was getting at with the question.

Bobby put a bowl of scrambled eggs and a plate full of bacon on the table. Sam and Dean sat in unison while Bobby pulled out the ketchup and placed it in front of Sam with a small smirk. Dean piled his plate full of bacon and only a spoon full of eggs while Sam took mostly eggs and only some bacon. He squirted the ketchup on his eggs, just like he used to when he was a kid. Dean always thought it was gross, but Sam thought the way he shoved bacon down his throat without hardly swallowing was gross.

"Hey kid." Bobby came and sat next to Sam and gave him a meaningful look. "You know your daddy wanted to see ya, it's not just cause of the hunt..."

"Yeah Bobby, I know." He didn't really believe that, but he wanted to make him feel better, so he lied. He's been doing that a lot lately. Actually, he's been doing that his whole life. Always trying to take the blame or telling white lies to comfort others.

"Now get to eatin'. You're six foot four, you need to keep some meat on your bones or you'll end up looking like a skeleton." He lovingly nudged Sam with his elbow as he passed him, walking out to where his father was. "Hey John, want some help with that? I could-" his sentence was cut off when he shut the door behind him. Sam finished up what he could of his breakfast and headed out towards the Impala with Dean on his heels. This was going to be a long trip…

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A full twenty-four hours later, after changing hands at the wheel a few times, Dean pulled into an average motel near the bay. He managed to get about an hour of sleep before it was his turn to drive and then he handed the wheel off to Dean after his turn. Their dad got out of the car and walked in to get them a room.

"So, when are we going to head out?" Sam asked, not really interested.

"We just spent twenty-four fuckin' hours in a cramped up car… If dad even thinks about making us go and hunt that zombie bitch anytime today I'll personally throw him out the door." Exhaustedly, Dean wiped his hand down his face. "I know it's only ten in the morning, but I'm gonna take a long nap the second we get inside. How 'bout you? Get much sleep on the ride?" Dean tried making conversation.

"I got an hour or so." A huge yawn had Dean following his action a few seconds later. "Yeah, I'll probably try to get a little more sleep. Who knows when we'll be heading out." Just then they saw their father stepping outside the building holding up a pair of keys and they stepped out of the vehicle.

They walked to their room, room 66, which had another six drawn next to the others. Well that was a great sign if he'd ever seen one…

"Well that's just great. Stupid kids don't know what is really out there." Dean spouted.

Their dad walked in first as usual, checking out the room before the boys came in. "Sam, lay down the salt lines while Dean and I bring in the rest of our bags." Dad ordered. Sam made quick work of salting the door and windows before noticing one huge problem.

Dean walked in first and dropped his and Sam's duffle bags at the door followed closely by their father. "Um, dad?" Sam started, staring pointedly at the two full size beds in the room.

"Sam, don't start. We don't have the means to get each of us our own bed. You'll just have to share with your brother." Sam huffed out a loud sigh. "You used to sleep in the same bed all the time when you two were younger!"

"Younger being the key word. We are two grown men." Sam tried to sound like he wasn't up for the idea, though really he didn't mind it. He would always sleep better when they shared a bed, but that was a long time ago. Their father just ignored him and went to the tiny bathroom and turned on the water for a shower.

"Hey man. Promise I won't take advantage of you during the night. I don't swing that way." Dean chortled and slapped Sam's shoulder as he walked to the bed furthest from the door and flopped down on the bed kicking off his boots. Sam walked toward the bed too and kneed Dean's dangling foot. "Bitch." Dean looked at him expectantly and Sam wasn't one to disappoint.

"Jerk." He sat at the edge of the bed and set his elbows on his knees. Running a hand through his hair he laid back onto the bed and the second his head hit the threadbare sheets, he was asleep. He didn't see his father coming out of the bathroom, didn't see him stare lovingly at his sons. He didn't feel his whisper light touch across his forehead, or him tugging off his shoes.

When he woke, it was dark out. He and Dean were both under the covers and he could hear the soft snoring radiating around the room. He pushed himself up on his elbows and noted the two eldest Winchesters sleeping peacefully. Sam smiled fondly at the sight. It was as if nothing had changed… As if those four years had not happened. But they did. What was the point anyway? Why did he even bother going to Stanford in the first place, just to have his dreams ripped away because of one fateful night? He didn't want to be here… In this damned motel room, in this state, in this life. Sam had rebelled against his father's crusade for as long as he could remember. He wanted none of it, and yet… Here he was.

Sam never thought of himself as the suicidal type. He always knew that he had a responsibility to his family and to people he didn't even know. He had thought of suicide a few times in his life though he only tried to go through with it once.

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Sam was heading off to yet another high school, in another town, in another state. They were hunting a wendigo in the forests behind the park at the edge of town. That night, they would be going to kill the beast that'd been snacking on children wandering too close to the forests edge… Thanks to Sam, they almost didn't make it out that night.

When they were all deep in the trees, waiting for the monster to come out, Sam and their father were having an argument. Sam didn't want to leave right after they finished the hunt. He had a history presentation due the next day that he'd been working on for a whole week.

"SAM. This is no time to be whining about some stupid history project! The second we kill this son of a bitch we're heading out. Now get your act together." His father sternly spoke at Sam. He didn't speak_ to_ him, he spoke_ at_ him.

"But dad, I-" a sudden rustle of the bushes caught Sam's attention and he yelled to Dean, "DEAN! BEHIND." One second too late, Dean tried to turn to get a flare off. The wendigo swiped his claws toward Dean and sent him flying into a tree with a loud thud. He heard his father curse and Sam sent a shot toward it, narrowly missing his target. The wendigo came at Sam and almost grabbed him up when his father sent his flare spiraling through the air and hit the creature in the chest. It arched it's back and sent a horrid howl to the sky as it burned. Sam didn't even take a second to look at it burning as he sprinted over to his brother.

"Dean. Dean can you hear me?" He frantically shook his brother until he could see his deep green eyes open to tiny slits and a moan came from him. "Oh thank God. Dean I am so sorr-" He was cut off when a hand came down harshly on his shoulder and pulled him backwards onto his rear.

"Son, are you alright?" His father questioned. He received a small whine when he prodded his head where some blood was trickling down his face. Sam peered around his dad to see a few slashes across his arm. They didn't look too bad though. Probably wouldn't even need stitches.

"Dean?" Sam whispered. He felt awful. He shouldn't have been arguing with his father out on a hunt. This was all his fault. The scowl he received from his father confirmed that thought.

"Sam, go bring the car up the trail. If anyone tries to stop you, knock them out." His father spoke in a monotone voice.

"Yes sir." He rushed down the trail and toward the Impala. Even though he was only fourteen, he knew how to drive just as well as someone who has been driving for years. Mostly because he too has been driving for years, since he was twelve years old and he had to drive his injured father and brother home from a hunt gone awry.

Sam sped though the dense trees to where he saw a small opening just large enough for him to turn the car to face where he'd come from and parked it. Seeing his father half carrying Dean, Sam jumped out of the car and toward the pair. His father gestured to the back seat of the car and Sam quickly opened the door and rushed to the other side to help pull Dean in. In a matter of minutes, they were settled in the car. Dean's head rested in Sam's lap while their dad took the wheel and began weaving through the forest toward the main road. A few more minutes later they arrived at one of the shittiest motels they have ever had the displeasure of staying at.

Carefully, they both helped Dean out of the Impala and into the room. Placing him gingerly on his and Sam's shared bed, his father curtly shooed Sam away.

"Dad, I can help. Please let me-" Sam clamped his mouth shut at the glare he was receiving from his father.

"Don't you think you've done enough…?" His father raised his brows, his mouth a tight line.

Sam just walked out of the motel room, muttering to his father he was going to take a short walk. His father agreed that would be for the best. He wasn't sure where his feet were taking him until he was at the edge of a cliff, staring down at the rushing rapids below him. One more step and everything would be over. One more step and all the pain would be gone. His family would be safer not having him around. He was like a bad luck charm they couldn't get rid of. Dean could have died that night because of his stupidity. He was about to take the plunge into the icy water below him when a park ranger grabbed him from behind and dragged him away from the edge, kicking and screaming. He managed to escape his hold and ran back toward the motel, hearing the concerned ranger calling to him from where he left him. When he got back to the motel, Dean was patched up and his dad was sipping on some whisky. Sam made his way toward the bathroom and pulled out his hunting knife he still had on him. This was the first time he'd cut himself.

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	5. Chapter 5

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It was about three in the morning when Sam was awoken from his restless sleep. His father was in the process of shaking Dean sputtering something about having to leave now and zombie is near.

"What are you talking about?" Sam reached up to rub the sleep from his eyes.

"Damn it Dean, wake up!" He yanked the pillow out from under Dean's head and then turned to answer Sam when Dean finally woke up. "I'm talking about the damn zombie! We have to leave _now_! I just heard on the police scanner that a _child_ was killed by 'something unknown', meaning the zombie is only a few blocks away. We have to get moving if we're gonna catch this thing."

In an instant, both boys were up and yanking on their shoes while their father grabbed the weapons duffle and headed out into the darkness. Since it was only a couple of blocks away, they didn't take the Impala. Each had one gun filled with silver bullets and silver knives.

Jogging along the sidewalk in the corner of his eye, Sam saw the shape of a woman running parallel to them through some trees that were lining the road. He abruptly stopped and ran toward her, hand on his gun. Sam glanced back to be sure that his brother and father were following him and then continued. At the edge of the trees, he stopped and listened.

They were on a lone road with only trees on either side of it. Suddenly a haunting woman with near translucent skin, dark hair and pale blue eyes launched herself at Sam. Knocking him to the ground holding his head back in the crook of her arm, she began to pull back cutting off his air supply. He squeezed his eyes shut. _Do it. Do it now before they can get to me. _One shot rang out and he felt the dead weight of the woman droop down on top of him. Instead of shoving her off, he just lay there on the cold dew covered grass, greedily pulling air into his deprived lungs.

"SAM!" He heard his brother rushing to his side and felt his father rolling the woman off of him. He never said a word. He didn't want to believe what he'd thought when the zombie was trying to kill him because… Sam _wanted_ it to kill him.

================SPN================

Dean turned Sam onto his back so he could see into his eyes. "Sammy, are you okay?" Sam didn't answer. He just stared unseeingly past his eyes. "Sam." His tone was more forceful; it turned that way when he was scared. And the way Sam was acting right now frightened him more than anything. He looked to his dad for answers and saw that he was looking between a folded piece of paper and the woman on the ground. "_Dad?_" His father looked over with a smirk on his face.

"We got it. Wow. Didn't even have to look that far, but it's over now." His tone satisfied.

"Dad!" Dean's eyebrows pulling together, "Something's wrong with Sam." That got his father's attention as he crawled over to his youngest son.

"N-no. I'm f-fine, really Dean. I guess I'm just kina in s-shock… She came at me so fast." Sam tried to get up and Dean forcefully shoved him back down to the ground.

"No Sam. You are not fine. Yeah, she did come at you fast… But when she had you in a choke hold it seemed like-" He cut himself off. He didn't want to think of what he had seen in his little brother's eyes as that bitch was trying to murder him. "It seemed like you _wanted_ it to kill you." His voice was shaking towards the end, making it hard for him to look Sam in the eye while waiting for a response. So he looked to his dad who stared at Dean with confusion. Dean knew what he saw, no matter what either of them said… It looked like his baby brother had given up and that was just not okay.

===============SPN=================

Damn his brother was intuitive… Especially when it came to Sam. He turned his eyes to his father who just looked dumbfounded. At least he could count on his father to not become wise to Sam's death wish. It wasn't like he was hoping she was going to pop out of the woods and get him. Just… when she had already had him in her clutches, he just wanted it to be over. Just wanted _peace_.

"Dean. I don't know what you think you saw…" he began as he was finally allowed to sit up from the wet grass. "But you're wrong." _No you weren't. Please don't listen to my bullshit excuses. _ "I was just stunned and I knew that y'all were right there. I knew that you'd kill it before it got me." _Yeah I knew, and unfortunately you came too soon. No damn it, I don't want to die! I just don't want to live… Wait, that makes no sense. _He was so confused, his thoughts buzzing around him made him dizzy. He took a few more deep breaths and made an attempt to stand with Dean's help. He shook Dean off and picked up his gun that was a few feet from where he landed and looked back at his small family. He didn't notice his father salting and burning the corpse, as he was so lost inside himself.

"Let's head back then." His father began walking toward Dean and patted him on the shoulder, "Nice work killing the bitch. And Sam, nice job spotting it." His dad shouldered up to Sam and put his arm across his shoulder and continued walking. Sam politely slid out from under his dad's arm and walked dejectedly toward their motel room. He heard Dean following close behind Sam and could almost feel his gaze on the back of his head. He slumped his shoulders forward and watched the concrete path like it was the most interesting thing in the world.

Just as they got to the door of their room, Dean roughly grasped Sam's shoulder and spun him around pinning him to the wall. He did not say anything, his eyes told Sam everything he needed to know. Their dad rested a hand on Dean's shoulder and gave it some light pressure, letting him know he'd gone a bit too far. Sam dropped his gaze to Dean's chest, rising and falling too fast. This whole scene lasted only about one minute, but it could have been hours for all Sam knew. Finally, Dean released his hold on Sam and stormed into the room kicking his shoes off on his way to their bed.

Sam did not move from that spot. He did not blink, didn't even breathe until suddenly his father moved into his line of sight. He gently guided Sam into the room and sat him in the chair by the window. A few seconds later his dad put a glass of water next to him and went outside to get some air. Dean never looked at him; well at least Sam didn't think he did. He just stared into space, not seeing anything. He was causing more trouble than he was worth. He could see that now.

A few minutes later his dad walked into the room and stood at the open doorway. He guessed he was looking at him… he didn't want to check for certain. "Sam?" He heard his father speak, a slight shake to his voice. "Sammy, do you want to go to bed? You must be tired…"

At that moment Sam realized that behaving the way he was, he would never get his family to stop watching him so closely. Maybe he didn't want them to stop… Secretly he wanted them to try to help him, to find out he was cutting, to find out everything. But he just couldn't let that happen. He couldn't bare to see the disappointment in their eyes if they knew his secrets. He just couldn't. So he quickly got a hold of himself and looked to his father, the worry lines etched into his face looked to be permanent.

"Yeah… I'm just tired." Sam stood on wobbly legs like a newborn calf and made his way to the bed where Dean was already sleeping. He could tell by the way he was grasping his pillow and breathing, he was still worried even in sleep. He carefully slid under the covers and lay back, staring at the ceiling until sleep overtook him.

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**Sorry for the shorter chapter. I would have added more but I thought this was a good stopping point. The next chapter should be up tomorrow night!**


	6. Chapter 6

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After about half an hour, Sam woke. It was now a little after four o'clock in the morning and he could see that his father and brother both were sleeping soundly. Sitting up, his hunter's instincts kicked in and he scanned the room. He was about to lie back when he saw the outside light reflect on an almost full bottle of Jack Daniels. Sam carefully crept out of bed, quickly pulling on a pair of jeans, and made his was to the bottle and took it outside the room. Sam pulled the door shut as silently as he was able and made his way to a small park that they had passed on the way to find the zombie earlier that morning. He sauntered up to one of the park benches and sat down heavily.

_Why didn't I think of this before? Dad and Dean drink their feelings, why shouldn't I do the same?_ He hadn't considered the fact that his father and brother weren't suicidal and had been drinking long enough that they knew when to quit. Sam wasn't much of a drinker though he'd take a couple of shots at a party or have a glass of wine at dinner when he'd gone to a nice restaurant with Jes- He twisted open the bottle and took a long swig.

It was chilly out and the alcohol warmed him. Numbed him. He quite liked that.

===============SPN=================

Yawning and stretching out across the bed, Dean realized something was wrong. He groped the sheets around him and found nothing. No Sam. He shot up, back ramrod straight and turned his attention to the dark bathroom.

"Dad!" Dean swung his legs over the bed and toward his father who was awake in an instant.

"What is it son? What's wrong? Is Sammy alright?" The eldest Winchester queried.

"Sam's gone." Those two words were all either of them needed to hear as they gathered up their weapons, not knowing what they'd need and raced toward the Impala with one thing on both of their minds… _Sam_.

===============SPN================

They'd been searching for Sam for well over an hour and there was still no sign of him. After going in one direction they took a U turn and headed back toward their motel, which they passed to go search up the other way. Their dad was about to turn back and see if Sam had come back to the motel when all of the sudden Dean screamed for him to stop.

"What?" His father had pulled to the side of the road and peered into the direction his son was pointing in. There was no mistaking the brown mop of hair sitting on the bench across from an eerie looking playground. His knees were drawn up to his chest and he was holding something that twinkled in the early morning light.

==============SPN================

Sam sat, watching the sunrise towards the treetops. He'd polished off the whisky in about forty-five minutes.

_Dean must be worried… I guess Dad is probably worried too. Maybe I should head back?_ He thought to himself seeing as though he was the only one here this early. _No. They'd freak if they saw me drunk. Which is why I shouldn't have come out here in the first place. God I'm so stupid._ With that he angrily smashed the bottle on the side of the bench, watching the tiny shards fly off in a multitude of directions. One particularly large shard of glass caught his eye as he picked it up, turning it every which way. He scrunched his brows together and clenched his jaw_. Maybe I should just end it right here? They probably wouldn't care…_ His drunken mind contradicting itself. Sam rolled the sleeve of his sweatshirt above the elbow and pressed the bottle's glass remnant forcefully into the crook of his arm. Watching the blood trickle freely down his arm, he heard the unmistakable rumble of the Impala. Sam froze, dropping the glass from his hand he realized they would find out. They could find everything out and everything would be ruined. He couldn't look his family in the eye anymore with out seeing their hurt and disappointment. He briefly considered bolting but thought better of it. Thinking quickly, he reached under his sweatshirt and ripped a small piece of material from his under shirt and wrapped it around the puncture. He ripped another section and wiped up the blood that was now pooling in his open palm. The slamming of two doors had Sam frantically working to be half way presentable. Even though he was drunk off his ass, he saw to it there was not a drop of blood on his body, which was quite a feat. He hastily brought down the arm of his sweatshirt and stumbled as far away from where he was seated as his uncoordinated legs could carry him. He knew if they got close they'd see the broken bottle and possibly some blood. He'd stuffed the bloody rags into his jean pockets before he continued stumbling toward his brother and father.

"Sam?" Sam couldn't tell who spoke his name. It was too quiet and far away. He bit his lip, looking between the three Deans and three Dads.

"Now… W-which one of ya am I s'posed to go to…?" Sam pointed his finger in a wide arc, passing his dad and brother before listing to his left and started his descent to the ground. A pair of strong arms grabbed his arm just before hit the ground and yanked him back onto his weak legs. His vision stopped swimming for a moment and stared up at his father. He saw the very things he had thought he'd see in his eyes. He could see the hurt, the anger… But one thing he wasn't counting on seeing was the_ fear_ in his father's eyes.

"D-dad. Why you h'lpin' me?" He slurred, not quite understanding why his dad was helping him. _Why can't you just let me go?_ Sam pulled away from his father's touch and dragged them both down into a heap on the ground while Dean hovered only inches away from Sam's back. "Dad, let m-me go!" He begged. For some reason he felt the need to get away from him. He wanted them to both be back at the motel safe and not have to worry about him. He could tell all logic was being thrown out the window. Sam couldn't think straight anymore. He still wasn't sure why his father wasn't letting go of him… In fact he was holding on tighter. Sam began to battle his way out. "Da'dy _please_." He gave up, sobbing into his father's shoulder. That did it. His father pulled him so tight he had to struggle to catch his breath. Sam could feel his brother's trembling hand rubbing circles on his back as his father's breath hitched. Sam had finally had a breakdown and he vowed to never have this happen again. He would not put his family through this type of emotional turmoil if he could stop it from happening. But right now, he just needed to let it out. Even though he'd tried to stop himself… several times… each time failed.

He could feel hands gently pulling him towards his feet and his arms being swung over two shoulders. He knew which side Dean was on because he was leaning more to his side, since he was not as tall as Sam or their father. But also on Dean's side was a painful stinging sensation coming from his arm as it pressed against the crook of Dean's neck. At that moment, the realization hit him and he figured out what was going on. Sam released himself from their grasp and staggered back a few steps.

"S-Sammy…?" Dean began. Reaching out carefully to Sam, fingers twitching. Dean's lower lip began to tremble as he took a slow purposeful step forward. "It's okay. We're not mad at you for getting drunk, alright? We're just worried. Dad and I just need to get you back to the motel so we can get the hell outa dodge. We could head back to Bobby's?"

The idea of going back to Bobby's always made Sam happy… He wanted to go see him. Bobby was like another father to them. Even as kids they always called him Uncle Bobby. Sam just couldn't put another member of his family under stress. He couldn't let another member of his family down. He shook his head and made his way forward leaving a stunned Dean and Dad behind him.

After weaving his way down the long sidewalk, he finally made it to his destination. Sam had never been this drunk in his whole life. It was a wonder he was still upright and vaguely coherent. His father and brother pushed ahead of him and unlocked the door and waited for Sam to enter. He couldn't take it anymore. He couldn't look them in the eyes and know that he was the reason their small family was tearing at the seams. It was always him that was the cause of all their problems. Well, not for any longer…

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Dean stood just inside the doorway, staring at his baby brother. Sam looked so lost and hurt. His lively spirit had faded over the years… The Sam he knew was gone. This man that stood outside was full of darkness and despair. There was no light in his eyes.

Finally Sam made eye contact with him and for a split second, he saw something distressing flash across his features. He couldn't place the look, but he didn't like it. It was almost as if Sam had come to terms with something. A small smirk tugged at the edges of Sam's mouth as he made his way past Dean and their dad toward something on the table shared between the two beds. His eyes grew wide as he remembered what was set there. His father left his gun there in their haste to find Sam, and now Sam was heading for it.

"SAMMY NO!" He cried. Dean could hear his father bellow out Sam's name too as he leapt for his brother. Almost in slow motion, Sam raised the gun to his head and looked at his brother with a longing expression before shutting his eyes and squeezing the trigger.

**================SPN==================**

**I know, I know… I'm evil for leaving it at a cliffy. Stay tuned!**


	7. Chapter 7

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"SAMMY NO!" Sam heard his older brother cry out to him. He didn't even feel like he was controlling his body anymore. It was as if autopilot kicked in and forced him into doing what his conscious mind would not be able to. He _had_ tried to kill himself those other times, like on the cliff years ago and then half an hour ago… But a part of him always knew that his family would save him.

He wouldn't let them save him this time. He'd do it right.

Sam turned his gaze to his brother who was lunging forward, trying to protect him. He so wished he could be the brother Dean deserved… one that would not cause him pain and heartache. Sam pulled in a deep breath. His last fleeting thought before he clamped his finger down onto the trigger was _Dean_. His hand not shaking in the slightest, he heard the audible click of an empty barrel.

_What the… _He pulled the trigger twice, and again. _No, no no no no! _"_**What did you do!**_" Sam's pained outburst filled the tight space. Dean didn't stop, he continued his rush toward Sam and he knocked the gun from his hand. Loaded or not, Dean apparently didn't want the thing near him. Sam choked back a sob and flung himself into the wall, sinking down to the navy carpet.

Dean must have asked his father about the gun because he heard his answer through the pounding of his head. "I- I was afraid something like this could happen. I didn't want to believe it but…" his dad choked up. "Sammy…"

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John watched his son break down to nothing and couldn't do anything to stop it. He could see his oldest fall to his knees on the floor in front of Sam. Dean stayed perfectly still until he could hear the sickening banging of bone against the plaster of the wall. Sam was smashing his head back, his jaw taught and tears streaming down his face. That had Dean springing into action, wrapping his arms around John's youngest.

"Sammy, it's all gonna by okay. I gotcha. Don't worry." John could plainly hear the panic in his voice as Dean softly calmed Sam. "P-please Sammy. I… I need you. I can't do this without you bro. Don't you get that? Don't you understand how important you are to this family? …To me?" His voice faltered at the end. He saw Dean pull Sam forward until their foreheads touched. He never let go of his face. "Answer me Sam… Please say _something_."

There was silence until John heard the four little words that had his world crashing down around him. Four words from his baby boy that had his stomach flipping around in circles. Four words that he never wanted to hear from either of his boys for the rest of their lives. "_P-please let me die._"

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"P-please let me die." Sam pleaded with his brother. Why couldn't he understand he couldn't remain in this life anymore? He wanted to be off this Earth so badly he could hardly stand speaking anymore.

"No, damn it! NO! I am _not_ going to let you die on me. Not on my watch, Sammy. Not EVER. I don't care if I'M dead. You are _not_ dying."

"Why would you be so cruel?" Sam really wanted the answer. If he didn't want to be here, why was Dean making him stay?

Dean grabbed his wrist, "As long as your heart is pumping blood through your veins, so is mine. _I _don't want to die, so _you_ have to keep on going." Dean looked as if he was going to keep on going but stopped and stared for a long moment at his hand wrapped around Sam's wrist.

_Oh God. _Sam jolted away from Dean's hand and scrambled away. He knew what his brother must have felt when he pressed his fingers to his pulse point. Dean had him pinned on his back in an instant.

"Dad, help me get this sweatshirt off him." He could see his father kneeling beside Sam and pulling his sweatshirt over his head revealing a ripped up, white v-neck with bloodied fingerprints at the bottom near the frayed edge. Dean straddled Sam and pinned his right arm down beside him. Sam could see that they were both staring at his left arm where the bloodied scrap of shirt was drunkenly tied around a gruesome gash just above his forearm. He took their distraction to maneuver his way out from under Dean. They were so shocked it took a second for them to realize Sam was on his way toward the door. Dean ran to him and grabbed him around the shoulders, pinning his arms to his sides just as Sam bucked and had them both landing on the ground. Dean's arms didn't loosen their grip as they sat on the floor. Sam pulled his knees to his chest and Dean had his legs in a V shape around Sam, holding him tight. Sam could feel his brother's heart beating too fast on his back.

"Calm down, Sammy." He felt his breath move his hair as Dean spoke. "Dad, can you come and clean his arm up?" His voice was gentle and it soothed Sam minutely. He tensed as his father brought the first aid kit over and sat down in front of him. His dad gingerly took his left hand and turned it over, revealing all of his secrets. A small gasp escaped his father's lips as he looked at his wrist.

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"Dad? Dad what is it?" He still wasn't sure why Sam was causing such a problem when all they wanted to do was clean the wound on his arm. He looked back down at Sam's arm and stopped at his wrist. A multitude of scars marred the pale complexion. The breath caught in his throat. "Sam."

"Please let me go." Sam seemed to sober up a bit so Dean released his grasp. He got up and stumbled over to their shared bed and stared down at Dean. Dean could almost see the gears turning in his head as he was trying hard to make excuses for what he'd just seen on his wrist. "I-" Dean held up a hand to silence him. He needed a second to process what he had just unmistakably seen.

There were so many. All in a neat row rising the length of his arm… Meaning he'd been at this a long time, unless he slashed his wrist all those times in one day. He didn't get a good enough look to see any stages of healing. "Let's start simple." He met eyes with his distressed little brother. "Was the wound on the inside of your elbow s-self inflicted… or did someone hurt you before we found you."

Sam looked to his father, deflecting his question by not making eye contact. "Sammy, please." Their father sat at the foot of the bed beside Sam. He scooted further from his father. Dean looked to their dad, nodding to Sam signaling for him to tend to his arm. "Here." His dad took the hint and tried to grab Sam's arm to pull away the material. "I'm just going to clean this up, okay? You can answer us when you're ready…" Dean could hear the silent 'Because I really need to know. I need you to be alright.' Dean agreed…

Dean scooted the medical box over to his dad, but did not make a move toward them. He and Sam were watching each other; neither brother's gaze strayed from the others. Each wore a mask of pain. Dean wore his for the pain of almost losing his brother. Sam wore his for a whole other reason entirely. Dean longed to be able to know what was going on inside his brother's head at that very moment.

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"Done." Sam turned his eyes onto his father then to his arm that donned a neat white dressing. Self consciously, he pulled his arm into his chest and curled inward.

All too suddenly, Dean was across the floor and right up in Sam's face. "Sam, give me your arm." Sam stubbornly refused. He knew Dean had every right to be angry with him, but he just couldn't deal with this right now. There was so much going on, he was overwhelmed. "Sam." He spat his name, harshly gripping his wrist and drawing it out into the open. Sam yelped and tried to bring his arm back. "God damn it Sammy! What have you done?" Sam squeezed his eyes shut, willing everything to just be a dream. That he'd wake up and have his family in the dark about his secrets, just like they should be.

He was on the brink of a full-blown panic mode when his father suddenly stepped in. He'd all but forgotten him sitting next to him. "Dean, maybe you should go and get us something to eat?" Dean stared at his father like he was some sort of alien.

"Excuse me?" Dean questioned.

"I said maybe you should go get some breakfast. We could all use a break." Their father gave Dean a stern look and then Dean, being the good soldier that he is, abruptly stood and stomped out the door.

"Dad?" Sam began. He and his father had never really been close so he didn't know what he should say.

"Son. I know that I haven't been there for you a lot when you were younger. Hell, I haven't been there for you now that you're an adult. I know… I know I screwed up a lot…" His father looked deep into Sam's eyes, searching for something. "But, I- I love you son. And seeing you this way… It tears me up worse than any wendigo ever could. I need to know what's wrong so your brother and I can help fix it."

Sam thought about this for a minute, letting his words sink in. "What's wrong is _me_… And… And I don't know if you _can_ fix this."

"We'll never know if you don't let anyone in, Sam." He put an arm around his shoulders and pulled him close. Sam turned his head and buried it in his chest. "You have people who care about you. You have Dean, Bobby, … _Me_."

"I just didn't say anything because I didn't want to seem weak. I couldn't let anyone know how bad everything hurt. I feel like I'm drowning and I can't find the surface." Sam clutched the material of his father's shirt as the tears began to fall again. Then suddenly let go, wiping his tears away. "I _am_ weak." Sam whispered under his breath.

"You are _not_ weak Samuel Winchester. You are _not_. Now…" His dad glanced at the motel clock sitting next to the bed. "You need to get some sleep. The strength of the whisky on your breath could kill a Black Dog." His father smiled warmly.

For once in a very, _very_ long time… Sam laughed freely. "Yeah… I should get some sleep, huh?" He laid back and his father pulled the sheets over him. Just before his father walked away from the bed, Sam reached for his hand and tugged. "Dad?" He waited until he had his father's full attention. "I love you too." Sam whispered before falling into the first restful sleep he'd had in months.

He didn't feel his father sweep his bangs from his face. He didn't hear his father murmur, "I know you do, son… I know you do." But somehow, Sam felt the comfort of his words even in his sleep.

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**This chapter was really hard for me to write. I didn't know if I should have this be the final chapter or not. So I'm sorry it took me longer than usual to update. I wanted Sam to have a heart to heart with his dad since Dean always filled the fatherly role with Sam. I think I'm going to have one more chapter, so stay tuned! Please rate! **


	8. Chapter 8

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Dean burst through the doors. Still pissed his father shooed him away from Sam. He glanced over to where his dad was and then noticed Sam was peacefully sleeping under the covers. Dean smiled fondly at him. Sam always looked younger when he slept. This Sam that he was staring at was _his_ Sammy. _His_ Sammy that was always trying to be just like his big brother… _His_ Sammy that was gentle and caring, full of love… _His _Sammy that Dean _could not_ live without.

"How's he holding up? Did you… uh. Did you get anything from him?" Dean almost didn't want to know. He wanted everything to go back to normal. Before Stanford…

"He said he never told anyone how bad it was because he didn't want to seem weak to us." His father spoke solemnly as Dean set down the diner bag full of food on the table.

"How bad what was? I don't understand… How bad the depression was getting? I know that after Jess it must have been hard, and he's always been a kind of moody kid… But cutting yourself?" He trailed off in disbelief.

"I can't tell you how sorry I am for not letting you know where I was for a while there. I should have never left you… I shouldn't have let Sammy go off to that damn school… I-I just don't know anymore. Maybe if I were a better parent?"

"Dad, you weren't a bad parent. You did the best you could and Sammy and I both know that… Let's just talk to him, okay?" Dean took his father's silence as permission and went over to where his little brother was sleeping. "Sammy? Sammy wake up. We need to talk little bro." Just the slightest shake of his brother caused Sam to bolt upright. "Sam? It's okay… I'm not mad anymore. I never was really, just shocked." Sam cast his eyes down to his hands that were folded in his lap. "Can I see?" Sam shot him a confused look so Dean cautiously grasped Sam's left hand in his own and slowly turned it over. In the corner of his eye, Dean saw his father creep over and sit facing them on the opposite bed.

His entire arm from the wrist to half way up his forearm was covered in short, one-inch scars varying in stages of healing. If he had to guess, there had to be at _least_ twenty, probably more. Now that he had a closer look, there were some that criss-crossed over each other creating almost a tally system. "How long have you been…?" Dean didn't finish his question.

"Dean…" Sam pleaded. Dean knew that he didn't want to answer, but he just _needed_ to know.

Dean shut his eyes, still holding his brother's hand. "Please." It was but a mere whisper and yet it held such agony.

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"Since I was fourteen." Sam spoke so low, neither his father nor brother heard.

"Since you were _how_ _old?_ To be honest Sammy, the fact that you aren't just using weeks or months is kind of freaking me out…"

"You _really_ want the truth?" The hesitation from Dean seemed to answer Sam's question.

"No, I don't… But I _need_ it."

"Fourteen." Sam spoke quickly.

His father spoke this time. "F-fourteen years old? How… How've you kept it a secret for _eight years_? What happened to make you do this to yourself Sammy?"

Sam went into the story of the wendigo hunt eight years ago. He told them everything except his fated suicide attempt. Some things he needed to keep to himself.

"I remember that." Dean was the first to speak. "I woke up and you weren't there. Dad said you went for a walk or something…" Dean peered at Sam suspiciously then looked to their father who only shrugged. "Where did you go? I never got an answer out of you then, and now that we're in the sharing mood…" Dean hedged.

"_Damn it, Dean_. Haven't you heard enough? What more do you want from me? _Huh?_" Sam's sudden outburst shocked the entire room.

"_Here_, let me start from the beginning. It's _my_ fault mom's dead," Sam ignored the protest he was receiving from his father as he continued on his list, "It's _my_ fault Jess's dead. Everything _is_ and _always has been… __**My. Fault.**_ That's why when you got hurt because of my dumb-fuck mistake, I went to the edge of the cliff near the park and would have jumped. _Unfortunately _some fuckin' park ranger was on duty and pulled me from the ledge. Otherwise we wouldn't be having this conversation right now. I went back to that awful motel and slit my wrists in the sink. And yes, I did say wrists. Did you want to take a look at the other one too? Would _that_ make you feel any better? Because it sure as hell made _me_ feel better." Sam shoved his other wrist into the light. "So there. Are you happy that now you can see proof of how much of a fuck-up I am? It's all written out across my arms."

"What about that…?" His father, who was significantly shaken, gestured towards the gauze covering where Sam had stabbed himself with the Jack Daniels bottle.

"Whisky bottle. I smashed it and took one of the shards of glass and punctured my arm with it. Nobody did this to me, _except_ me. Was trying to off myself then too. I can't even kill myself right. I am just _done_. I am done with everything. The pain, the guilt, the hiding…" Sam pulled his arms in and wrapped them around his midsection staring up at the water stained ceiling.

"Sammy… You can't keep doing this to yourself. It's not healthy." Dean began.

"Don't give me some stupid lecture. I obviously know it's not healthy otherwise I wouldn't have been hiding it. I… I just don't know if I can stop. Cutting helps me with keeping my emotions in check. If I can't do that-"

"We'll be there to help you. Always. You don't need cutting when you have us. Dad and me will be there for you whenever you need us. So just please…"

"Dean I-" Sam started to protest, but the look in Dean's eyes stopped him. He knew he could count on him, no matter what. He'd always have him. "Okay. I'll try." Sam said he'd try, but if things got too much to handle… He just didn't know if he could stop. It's been a part of his life for so long…

"Now… Let's eat something. Dean brought everyone some breakfast so lets eat before it gets cold." His father smiled broadly at Sam.

"Yeah. Let's eat." They made there way over to the table and delved out breakfast sandwiches to everyone. Before digging in, Sam looked up and exchanged glances with both his father and brother. "Thanks… For everything." He didn't need to hear a response from either of them.

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The Winchester's ate in silence. Each member of the family lost in their own thoughts. But as long as they had each other, they would make it. And each one of them knew that. Another thing that they all knew was that in their line of work… Nothing lasted long. Not even themselves.

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**DONE. I hope that everyone enjoyed reading this story. I poured my heart into it. I did leave it open for a sequel **_**just incase**_** I wanted to add more to the story… But this is it for now! Please rate!**


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